Stranglehold
by beeftony
Summary: When Clark got sick for the first time in his life, Chloe wrote him a letter. What if Lionel got a hold of it? And worse, he used it against her? Takes place during and after the events of the episode "Whisper." Usual disclaimer applies. ABANDONED
1. Prologue

"Was there any result with the change? Hmm."

Lionel Luthor stood in his office, overlooking the silvery peaks of Metropolis that rose in deliberate defiance of the ground, reaching valiantly towards the sky. In man's never-ending quest to elevate himself above the rest of nature, he thought, this was certainly one of his greatest accomplishments.

And yet, he noted, despite all of his attempts to fly, man could only break the law of gravity for as long as his fuel was able to keep the air rushing over the wings that he had created. And even if he did manage to go far enough to lose the need for atmospheric pressure to keep him aloft, he was still a slave to oxygen. And if he tried to get too close to the sun that he had always envied, he would suffer the fate of Icarus, who, unable to control his curiosity, decided to push his limits. He pushed them too far, and the unforgiving hardness of the ground was the price he paid for getting himself involved in something he couldn't even begin to understand.

These were idle thoughts of course, half-formed concepts swimming in the back of his head as he continued his conversation. "Uh, alright, do it again." He laughed at the other party's reply. "How long will that take? All right. Call me when you're done." With that, he hung up.

"I guess this is the part where I'm supposed to cough suggestively?" said a voice behind him, and he smiled. "You know, I don't have any new information on Clark."

He slowly pivoted around to face the new arrival in his office, a young blonde who had recently decided to stray a little above her maximum altitude. He grabbed his mug from the table and began to pour himself some coffee.

"And even if I did," she continued, "I would have happily e-mailed it to you sans three hour drive."

"Would that have been before or after you spoke to Lex?" His voice was laced with a deceptive calm similar to the eye of a hurricane. All she had to do was move a little left of center and she would find herself at the mercy of the storm.

Her eyes went wide. Not, he noticed, with the horror of being found out, but one of the most basic human emotions: confusion. "What are you talking about?"

It didn't matter how innocent or guilty the girl was. He'd had enough of her thinking she could play a game that was far beyond her level of understanding. "You know, Miss Sullivan, these coy evasions may work when you're wheedling information out of a high school librarian, but up here, you're out of your league."

Striding over to the couch, he sat down. "Mr. Luthor, what's this about?" Chloe repeated.

"We had what I assumed was a private conversation, but imagine my surprise to have Lex throw my very own words right back in my face. You led me to believe, Miss Sullivan, that, ah, you were no longer in communication with Lex."

Her eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched as she prepared to stand her ground against the assault. "Well, I'm not. But thank you for the wildly offensive insinuation. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm on a deadline." She started to leave.

"Not anymore," he said with immense satisfaction. "Your column at the Daily Planet's been cancelled."

Chloe froze. "What?"

He looked her in the eye. "All right, all right. Here's the deal. You tell me everything you fed to Lex, I'll let things stand."

Once more she adjusted her face into an impenetrable defense against his onslaught. "I told you I'm not Lex's source," she said with effort. "And while I'm sure you could kill my column, this is not the only piece I'm working on for the Daily Planet. I know I could interest them in a story about an eccentric billionaire with an obsessive interest in a Kansas farm boy."

Lionel glared at her as though he wished that she would burst into flame. "You threatening me?" he said quietly.

She gulped.

He chuckled maliciously and stood up, producing a crumpled sheet of paper from his desk. "I'd be careful whom you accuse of having an 'obsessive' interest, Miss Sullivan."

"What do you mean?" she nearly whispered, her eyes narrowed into slits.

"'I want to let you in on a secret,'" he read, eyes glimmering with menace. Chloe's, on the other hand, were filled with the terror one feels when their biggest secret has fallen into the hands of their worst enemy. She felt as though some unknown giant was stamping on her lungs.

"Where did you get that?"

"'I'm not who you think I am,'" continued Lionel, ignoring her. "'In fact, my disguise is so thin, I'm surprised you haven't seen right through me.'" He laughed out loud when he read the next line: "'I'm the girl of your dreams, masquerading as your best friend.'" He looked up at her. "That last line was exactly fourteen syllables, Miss Sullivan. Beautiful rhythm it had, too. I didn't know you were such a gifted poet."

Chloe stood there, trembling. After a few moments she returned her face to its former expression of cool rage. "Clark knows how I feel about him," she said. "And he knows about all…" she gestured around the office, "this. There's not a damn thing you can do to me that you haven't already done."

He grinned. "Really? So you're telling me that Clark _wouldn't_ be upset to hear that not only have you been researching him all these months, but that you've actually been keeping… _romantic_ photographs of him and yourself since your freshman year? I'm not sure how he'd deal with a stalker."

"I'm his _friend_," she corrected him. "My personal life is none of your business."

"And my son is none of yours," Lionel snapped.

She just stood there, breathing like a bull preparing to charge. "What do you want?"

"Tell me what you fed to Lex, or Clark gets an anonymous e-mail with a rather _large_ attachment."

He waited for several moments. "Well, Miss Sullivan?"

Chloe managed to sigh regretfully, when all she really wanted to do was break down and cry. "All right," she said. "Here's what I know."


	2. Lying in Deceit

Pete Ross sat at the bar of the Talon, surrounded by women. It was his favorite place to be.

"And that's the way I pulled myself out of the compactor and got away," he said to the crowd of fangirls. They all let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh my God. That's the bravest thing I've ever heard," said one of the girls.

"Well, you know, if I didn't do something fast, I'd be Spam in a can, so…." He let the sentence hang there.

"Well, I'm glad you're okay," another girl replied, kissing him on the cheek. "Call me," she said as the group started to walk away.

"I will do that," Pete said smokily.

"I have a feeling I'll be hearing this story for a long time."

Pete burst out laughing and spun around in his chair to face Clark, who stood behind him. "Busted," he said. "But, you know, what can I say? Chicks dig a hero."

"Uh huh."

"Hope you don't mind I'm bending the truth a little bit."

Clark chuckled. "Pete, look who you're talking to. The master truth-bender. Besides, after everything you've done for me, it's the least I can do." He grimaced, then took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

"What's the matter?"

"My eyes are just adjusting. I think I need a new prescription."

"Almost back to normal, huh?"

He turned around to find Chloe standing there. She looked… well.

"Chloe," he said flatly before walking away.

Pete whistled after he left. "Wow," he said. "Cold shoulder much?"

"It's like he's from an ice planet," she nearly whimpered.

Pete put an arm around her shoulder. "You wanna talk?"

She sniffed and nodded. He led her to one of the tables and they both sat down. "What happened?"

Chloe was quiet for several moments. Finally she spoke: "Pete, you have to promise not to tell anybody."

"Scout's honor."

She laughed. "We both know Clark's the Big Blue Boy Scout," she said mirthfully. "But thanks." She took a deep breath before saying: "I made a deal with Lionel Luthor."

"Whoa!" Pete nearly shouted before saying, more quietly this time: "Is that why Clark's mad at you?"

"What do you think?" she snapped. "It happened last year, before Clark disappeared off to Metropolis all summer. We had this huge fight, and like every woman scorned I wanted to do the one thing that would hurt him the most." She looked down. "I've been trying to get out ever since."

"Sounds like you're in pretty heavy."

She nodded. "He's blackmailing me, using my column at the Planet and my dad's employment at his company to manipulate me into doing whatever he wants."

"Which is?"

"Researching Clark."

Pete's eyes grew wide, and he understood. "So Clark found out somehow, and he wasn't happy about it."

"I don't know how he found out," she said. "But we had this big blowout at his barn earlier today." She looked up at him fearfully. "I think this might be the end of our friendship, Pete."

"Don't say that," he insisted. "You two just need to talk now that everything's out in the open."

She looked down to where her hands were folded in her lap. "Not everything."

"What do you mean?"

"Okay, vow of secrecy time again. Do you promise not to tell anyone?"

"I swear."

"Do you remember all those photos of Clark and me that I supposedly got rid of after the Spring Formal?" she asked, and Pete nodded. "Well… the truth is that I still have them."

"_What?!_"

"Shhh!" she ordered. "Not so loud. Do you want _everybody _to know?"

"Sorry. So what's the big deal?"

"Lionel knows about them too. He's threatening to send them to Clark if I don't keep working for him."

"So why don't you just tell him?"

She blinked. "Say what?"

"Show Clark the pictures. That way Lionel can't hold them over you. The truth shall set you free, Chloe Sullivan."

"But there'd still be the issue of my Daily Planet column and my dad's job."

"You can cross that bridge when you come to it. If you just tell Clark about the pictures, it'll be one less thing to worry about."

"I don't know…."

"Now there's something I never thought I'd hear you say," Pete remarked. Ever since he'd met her, Chloe had always been after whatever source of information she could find. Even though she didn't actually know everything, that didn't stop her from wanting to.

"Look," he said. "You still love Clark, right? I mean obviously you do, or else you wouldn't have those pictures. Now you and I both know there's nothing sadder than unrequited love. You at least owe it to him to tell him how you feel."

She looked up. "You really think so?"

"Quit tryin' to make this my decision," Pete practically ordered her. "You got yourself into this mess, and you're the only one who can get yourself out. Now I may be your mechanic, but you've still gotta drive the car."

"You're right," said Chloe, her strength suddenly returning. "I'll show him tomorrow at school." She stood to leave, pausing long enough to say: "Thanks, Pete."

He smiled. "No problem. What are friends for?"

"Repeating that exact sentence apparently," she quipped, and they both laughed. "Later, Pete."

"See ya."

* * *

Clark was sitting in his loft, staring out at the sky. Out of all the things that had changed in the past two and a half years, this was one activity that remained constant. He no longer wondered why he found it so interesting—it was where he came from, after all. Looking at the vast expanse of tiny apertures that dotted the night sky made him feel at peace. After the ship had been destroyed last year, it was one of his few remaining connections to Krypton.

He was reluctant to call it home, however, even in his mind. Krypton was his place of birth, yes, but he had been raised on Earth. Jonathan and Martha Kent were the people who had seen him through fourteen years of growing up, so they were his real parents as far as he was concerned. Jor-El may have given him life, but that didn't grant him the right to control the way he lived it.

It was here, in this loft, gazing at the stars from which he had come, that Clark had made some of the biggest decisions in his life. It was here, in front of this window, just last year, that he had finally took a shot with Lana Lang, the girl of his dreams. He had been so excited at the time—but it wasn't meant to last. He didn't trust her to keep his secret. How could he, when he was the reason her parents were dead?

It was down there, in the driveway where his gaze had now shifted, that he and Chloe had gotten into a fight that had nearly destroyed their friendship. She had been so angry at him, and all he could offer her was more vague excuses and promises to get back to her later. It was that fight that had driven her to turn to Lionel Luthor. If he had only told her the truth about him and Lana, she wouldn't be in this mess to begin with.

It was here, in this barn, that he and Chloe had gotten into another fight just earlier today. He had confronted her with the truth, and she had met his righteous indignation with her own. She had turned the tables on him. She had reminded him that the guilt was his. It wasn't like she had outright accused him of putting her in a situation where her only choice was to turn to Lionel, but he didn't need X-Ray vision to see that he had broken her heart last year and that this whole thing was his fault.

His parents had raised him to always tell the truth. But people keep secrets for a reason. Even they understood that. The world wasn't ready for the truth. Neither was Lana.

But was Chloe? He had thought about telling her many times before—only to have her say something that reminded him why he was keeping this a secret in the first place. He had nearly lost Pete as a friend when he told him, and even though things were great between them now, he could tell that his best friend looked at him differently than he used to; part admiration, part envy. That was the look he saw on Pete's face every time the subject of his powers or his extraterrestrial heritage came up. Part of Pete was impressed by the fact that his best friend was an alien—he made that very obvious—but Clark knew that another part of his best friend was extremely jealous.

How would Chloe react if she knew that her research into him had not been in vain? That he was an alien from another planet, apparently sent here to conquer Earth? The part of her that had created the Wall of Weird would probably think it was unbelievably cool. But her investigative reporter side would want to share his secret with the world. He couldn't risk that.

Still, would she have gone to Lionel in the first place if she had known? He knew Chloe too well to think that she was researching him entirely against her will. If he had been honest with her—about everything—would she have betrayed him like that?

His thoughts were interrupted when his vision blurred and he took off his glasses to find his surroundings as clear as they'd always been. He smirked. Only a Kryptonian could recover from total blindness in less than twenty-four hours.

"Looks like you're back to normal."

Clark turned around, smiling when he saw Lana there.

"Hey, Lana. Um, I'm glad you're here." He stepped closer to her. "I wanted to talk to you about what happened yesterday in the truck."

"Right, I, uh, wanted to talk to you about that too."

"I was way out of line. I was feeling vulnerable, but I don't expect—"

She cut him off. "Clark, um… The reason I pulled away is that I… I met someone at the hospital."

He blinked. "Oh."

"And I'm not sure how I feel about him."

"Well, I mean, the fact you're telling me about him means you already know," he offered.

"Maybe you're right," she replied. "But if, um, if you and I are going to be friends, I-I didn't want you to find out from somebody else."

Clark nodded solemnly, resigning himself to his fate. "Yeah," he said, his voice low. "Yeah."

Sensing that Clark wanted to be alone right now, and feeling the same way herself, Lana said: "Well, uh, I should get back to the Talon." She turned and started to leave.

"Hey, Lana?"

She halted, then turned around slowly to face him.

"Thanks for being honest."

She nodded. "Well, it's the only way our relationship can last, right?" She moved down the stairs, and was soon out of sight.

He smiled, though it didn't last as he put his newly discovered power of super-hearing to use, only to hear the one thing other than Kryptonite that could cause him pain: the sound of another person's anguish. Lana was crying.

He was the one who had reduced her to this, he realized. He was the one who had broken her heart earlier that year, when he told her that, even though he had tried so hard to be the right guy for her, he could never make himself fit that role. He had told himself—and Lana—that he was protecting her, but the truth was that he was protecting himself. He was protecting his secret. People wear armor for a reason—and inside that armor, there's only room for one.

Could he have spared her this, if he had told her? The question was pointless now. The damage had already been done. He couldn't go back and rebuild a bridge that he himself had burned.

Was it too late for Chloe? Was he destined to lose each of the people he loved because he couldn't trust them to keep his secret? Would he eventually end up pushing them all away? He hoped that that wouldn't be the case, but he knew a sign of the future when he saw one. If he didn't tell Chloe the truth—about everything—he would lose her forever, just like he had lost Lana.

He sighed and looked back up at the stars. Even with powers as amazing as his, sometimes being an alien really sucked.

* * *

Chloe took a deep breath. This was it. Now or never. It was either tell him the truth, or lose him as a friend forever.

"Clark!" she called, rushing up to where he stood by his locker.

He didn't look quite so upset to see her as he had yesterday, but she did notice that his expression seemed to convey a feeling of thinly disguised guilt. '_He feels responsible for this_,' she realized. That notion didn't make her feel any better.

"Uh, hi Chloe," he greeted awkwardly.

"Do you have a minute to talk?"

He didn't say anything, but nodded.

"I just wanted to say that… I'm sorry for everything," she told him. "I'm sorry I went to Lionel, I'm sorry I looked into your past in the first place, and I'm sorry that I let my feelings for you get in the way of being your friend."

He smiled, looking at the same time like he was trying to ignore a gaping hole in his chest. It was the smile of a wounded man who tries to deny the fact that he's dying. "I forgive you."

As much as she hated clichés, Chloe did indeed feel as though an incredible weight had been taken from her shoulders. But the knot in her stomach returned when she realized that the burden had somehow been transferred to Clark.

"How long before your next class?" she asked, even though the question was unnecessary as she had his entire schedule memorized. Hey, she was his best friend—it wasn't like she was stalking him or anything. Speaking of which….

"I have this period off," he answered. "Why?"

She inhaled, delaying her answer until her lungs were ready to explode. "I have something to show you."


	3. The Truth Shall Set You Free

"Chloe, what is it you wanted to show me?" Clark asked as they entered The Torch.

Shutting the door behind them, the blonde sighed. "Okay, so you remember last year when Lana and I got into a huge fight over her invading my personal space?"

"I seem to remember that being the first time I heard the words 'Metropolis United Charities.'" Was that _mirth_ she detected? Not quite the tone she had expected to come with such a statement.

"And I told you, Clark, I've let go of the whole farmboy espionage thing. Though I must admit, part of what intrigued me was that I couldn't find any records of you before the meteor shower. It's like you just… fell out of the sky."

"Yeah, so when are you letting that go again?" Had it not been for the huge smirk on his face, Chloe would have curled up into the fetal position. She deserved that.

Rather than trying her best prenatal impression, however, Chloe laughed. "Just pleading my case before I throw myself upon the mercy of your court," she explained.

"Well, the jury's unanimous," replied Clark. "Not guilty by reason of temporary insanity."

"You!" Chloe punched him on the shoulder, smiling with satisfaction when she saw him flinch before her fist even struck. "Alright, I'll be the first to admit that love makes you do crazy things…." She trailed off, and the smile vanished from her face.

Clark's eyes widened in concern. "Chloe?"

"I shouldn't have said that," she groaned, "I know you're still not over Lana and—"

He pressed a finger to his lips. "Shh," he said. "Let's not talk about Lana."

That was one of those things that Chloe had grown to admire—no, to love—about Clark: his unfailing ability to tell her exactly what she needed to hear. Not that this was true all the time, but just like Clark had literally saved her from falling over the edge on several occasions, he always knew exactly what to say to bring her back just as she was about to plummet to her emotional doom. He wasn't always there when she wanted him, but he never let her down when she really needed him.

"Thanks Clark," she choked out, her voice betraying what she refused to let her eyes reveal. After a quiet sniffle, she was back in action. "But that's sort of what this is about." She slid her chair out of the way in favor of bending over instead. Whether she was conscious of it or not—though Clark certainly noticed—she looked like she was getting ready to be spanked for misbehaving.

'_She really _is_ sorry_,' he realized.

Chloe, oblivious to Clark's comparison of her to a naughty child, continued: "See, she was snooping through my files…."

And then Clark saw it. A picture of him in a tux, holding a blonde girl wearing a pink dress in his arms, dancing the night away. It had been taken at the Spring Formal, just before the tornadoes hit. Why did Chloe still have this on her computer?

"…and she found these."

'_These?_' wondered Clark, before noticing the image below the picture: it was a navigation bar. One click of the mouse, and the picture from that day was replaced with another.

"Chloe, why do you still have all these?"

She stood up, looked him square in the eye and said: "Because I still love you, Clark."

He said nothing.

Taking that as the signal that she now had the floor, Chloe continued: "I don't think it's any secret that I've had these feelings for you for a while, Clark. You even… tried to reciprocate that night." She pointed at the photos. "But I was never the girl of your dreams…." Her eyes returned to him, and she stared, praying that, just once, Clark Kent would open up to her.

"Chloe…" he breathed, "why are you telling me all this?"

She chuckled bitterly; she had been expecting him to say that. "Because if I hadn't, Lionel Luthor would have."

His eyes widened. "Are you still involved with him?"

"I'm trying to get _out_!" she screamed suddenly, not even bothering to wonder why Clark nearly doubled over, clutching his ears. He stood up the next moment anyway. "But you know how it is with the Luthors! He threatened to cancel my Daily Planet column and fire my dad and to tell _you_ that I was acting like a stalker and… and…." She started hyperventilating.

"Chloe!" Clark shouted, gripping the near-hysterical girl by her shoulders. "Calm down. I'm gonna get you out of this. You'll be safe, I promise."

The blonde reporter blubbered something incomprehensible before collapsing into his arms, burrowing her tear-stained face into his warm, broad chest. Clark held her tight, running his large hands up and down her back and murmuring soothing phrases into her ear, telling her that as long as he was here, she would be safe. Eventually the heaving stopped and she raised her reddened eyes to Clark's frosty blue ones. She had never seen eyes the same color as his—but then again Clark Kent was one of a kind.

"Thanks, Clark," she whispered so that her voice wouldn't crack. "I-I'm sorry for everything."

"I forgive you," he whispered back.

And then it happened. Memories of the last year and a half were suddenly shrouded in ether, and the only thing either of them could think about was how familiar this felt—how _right_ this felt. They looked at each other, not as friends, but as something more. Soft wisps of hot air filled the increasingly small space between them, bringing to their noses the familiar smell of mint. Heads tilted and eyes closed and warm lips parted as they relived that night—remembered how perfect everything had been before—

There was a knock at the door.

Two gasps of panic were all it took to suck every ounce of romantic atmosphere out of the room. Clark was the first to snap out of his daze and strode over to open the door, revealing….

"Lana?"

'_Of _course,' lamented Chloe. '_It's not a party until the girl of your loved one's dreams crashes it._' She looked up, wishing that she could see right through the ceiling. "Why do you hate me?" she whispered.

"Who hates you, Chloe?"

If it were anyone but Clark, Chloe would have found it highly curious that he could hear her whisper from more than five feet away, not to mention know _exactly_ what she was whispering. But she had promised to let it go….

She chuckled innocently and shrugged. "You know, God, Allah, Barney the Dinosaur… whoever it is that's responsible for landing me in this sci-fi soap opera I call a life."

"Well I don't see anyone in felt costumes busting into song, so you can rule out number three."

Everyone but Lana froze. None of them had said that.

Clark stepped away from the door, allowing Lana and the mystery speaker inside.

"Everyone," the brunette announced, "This is Adam. Adam, that's Chloe, and this is Clark."

"How's it going?" Clark greeted and extended his hand, which Adam shook.

"Not bad. Yourself?"

"Well, my eyes have never been better," he answered. "Though they are still a little sore."

"Then I hope you've been seeing some good sights," said Adam.

To Chloe's great surprise—and secret pleasure—Clark gave her a sidelong glance, as though trying to send a message with his eyes saying: "We'll pick this up later."

"Oh, I've been seeing a few." The way he smiled when he said that….

Chloe decided that now was _not_ the time to be making goo-goo eyes and grinning like a lovesick idiot at the guy who was supposed to be her best friend—especially not in front of her roommate, who just _happened_ to have been the object of that same best friend's desires for so long she felt like she didn't have a chance when she was around. She cleared her throat and stepped closer to the group.

"Uh, hi, Adam!" she said to ingratiate herself, extending her hand just as Clark had. Adam, in a move that surprised everyone, raised the hand slowly, skillfully to his face, where he planted a delicate kiss on the back.

Clark was the first to react. "Uh, Adam, what are you doing?"

"Seeing which of you two would react first," he answered, pointing between Clark and Lana. "I also wanted to gauge how close the three of you are. Kissing her hand allowed me to do both." He turned to Chloe. "By the way, kudos on the strawberry lotion. People think it only works on redheads, but it smells great on yellow roses too."

Despite the awkwardness of the whole situation—or perhaps because of it—Chloe couldn't help but smile. "Uh, thanks," she said. "So what are you, other than a gentleman of course?" He laughed. "Where did you and Lana meet?"

"Physical therapy," he said. "I helped guide her through the rougher waters."

"Are you a therapist?"

Adam shook his head. "Fellow patient. Had a beam collapse on my leg five months ago, trying to save my parents from a burning building. They died."

It was then that everyone noticed just how incredibly frank and honest Adam was about… well, everything. It certainly was a change from the evasive, secretive personalities they were used to encountering.

"I'm so sorry," said Chloe.

"Don't be," Adam insisted. "I've moved on. They wouldn't want me to be depressed."

"Well that's good to hear."

Adam smiled.

Lana cleared her throat, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well, it was nice seeing you guys. I have to go show Adam the Talon."

"See ya!" Adam called as Lana practically dragged him out of the room.

"Bye!" Clark and Chloe called together. As soon as the door was shut, they faced each other.

"Uh…" began Clark awkwardly. "Where were we?"

An equally flabbergasted Chloe was about to answer when the bell rang. "I swear, somebody's sitting behind a desk somewhere stroking a cat, watching video feeds and pushing buttons that cause these sudden interruptions," she vented, amusing Clark. He smiled. "Pick this up later?" she nearly pleaded.

"Why don't you swing by the farm this afternoon? It's been a while since we hung out."

Her resultant smile was almost shy, a trait that had never been used to describe the (in?)famously outspoken Chloe Sullivan. But then again, she was sort of walking a tightrope here, and the future of their relationship depended on whether or not she kept her balance. Of course, it didn't hurt that Clark had been her safety net so many times in the past. Still, she was nervous.

"Yeah, it has," she replied quietly, another adjective that didn't quite fit her usual personality. "See you then." Deciding that it was best to end it there, she hugged him one more time, wiping the last of her tears on his shoulder before whispering, "Thank you, Clark."

Wrapping his arms a little tighter around her, Clark replied: "Anytime."

And the best part about that statement, thought Chloe as she inhaled deeply, letting the scent of his cologne tickle the insides of her nose, was that it was true.

"Bye," she said as they separated, walking past him and out the door.

"Bye."

* * *

Jonathan and Martha Kent sat at the kitchen table, going over bills. It had always been the one low point of the month for them. Money had never been an object between them, but lately they'd barely been able to break even. Forgoing luxury and not being able to support one's family were two completely different realities, and although since the beginning their relationship had always been the former, lately things had been drifting more and more towards the latter.

They hated this time because it was the only time they spent together where they ever really fought. Arguments would start over how the numbers in one column weren't enough to balance out the numbers contained in another, at which point Jonathan would reassure Martha that they had always managed to at least break even before. Martha would then point out that what had happened in the past would not guarantee the future, that even if you drop a stone a hundred times and it falls to the floor ninety nine of those times, you never know if it might fly to the ceiling on the hundredth try. He would then ask her where she got that analogy, to which she would reply, "David Hume," and he would then make a snide comment about her highly educated background and how her father had raised her to be such a high class woman, which would inevitably lead back to a subject that seemed to figure into nearly all of their conversations: the Luthors.

It always went back to the Luthors. Clark was friends with Lex, and Martha had worked for Lionel the year before, which was the only other time in their relationship where the fighting and arguing seemed to be almost constant. Jonathan was convinced that the Luthors were evil incarnate, although to be fair, he wasn't exactly alone in his opinion. Besides Martha, the only person who dared to disagree with him was Clark. Their son—even after learning of his alien heritage, they refused to think of him as anything else—had always tried to see the good in everyone, a trait he clearly got from Martha. Of all his superhuman endowments, the ability to always maintain an optimistic view of the situation as well as the people involved, no matter what the circumstances, seemed to be Clark's greatest gift of all. The Kents sought to nurture this quality in Clark, to ensure that he grew up to be a man who acted for the sake of others as the ultimate means of fulfilling his own desires. It was what kept them going in spite of these fights. The radiant goodness they saw and wanted to protect in their son was what motivated them to keep on living.

But even they occasionally lost sight of things.

"…how you could even stand to _work_ with such a man!" Jonathan was yelling when Clark came in. "To _think_ that he would have the audacity to suggest—"

"And the influence to back it up, don't forget about that," Martha reminded him.

"It still makes me sick that he thinks he could just _control_ a person like that!" he shouted, unaware of his son's presence. "Gabe's worked at that plant for years! To use him as a pawn in some twisted chess game with our son, it just…." He stopped when he noticed Clark. "Oh, hi son," he greeted, smiling.

Clark didn't respond in kind. "I assume you guys are talking about Chloe?" he asked so accusingly it might as well have been a statement. It was his own fault, though—he didn't have to tell them about his falling out with her yesterday. At least now he had good news on that front. He sat down, dropping his backpack to the floor by his chair.

"What Lionel did to her is wrong, Clark," Jonathan said. "Blackmailing her like that—"

"Was the worst mistake he ever made," interrupted Clark, his eyes flashing red as he slammed his fist on the table, thankfully controlling both of his powers enough that he didn't splinter the wood or set the kitchen on fire.

"Clark, calm down!" his mother urged as she rushed to his side and put both her hands on his shoulders, counting on the fact that her relationship with him was far more effective at restraining the young Kryptonian than any other kind of strength.

"Sorry, it's just—she wouldn't be in that situation if it weren't for what happened with me and Lana last year."

"Clark, you can't blame yourself," insisted Martha. It was a sentence she had repeated many times over the last couple of years, but it still held the same value to Clark, who sighed.

"I know that Mom, but I can't help feeling that I'm responsible. I mean, if I hadn't been such a coward and just _told_ her that Lana and I were together, she wouldn't have made a deal with him."

"The choice was still hers," she pointed out, releasing him and stepping back over to stand by her husband's chair.

"That's true, but I still shouldn't have put her in a position to make it."

"Son, you couldn't have known," said Jonathan. "You shouldn't beat yourself up about this."

Clark sighed, still not completely agreeing, but eager to get on to the more exciting matter at hand.

"I do hope you two will be able to patch things up," said Martha.

"Actually," Clark replied, smiling, "She's coming over later so we can talk about some things."

"What kind of things?"

He grinned wider. "We… kinda had a moment today."

"What kind of moment?"

Clark just kept smiling.

"Clark…" she breathed, "Does this mean you have feelings for her again?"

He nodded.

Martha gasped, drawing a hand to her chest and holding onto the counter as though she actually believed that she would faint. "But I thought you were in love with Lana?"

"I was," he answered. "But today with Chloe, I felt something. Something I think was always there, but I never really noticed it after the Spring Formal freshman year. I was too busy with Lana to notice that Chloe still cares about me as more than a friend." He smiled. "And I think I feel it too."

Fully recovered from her moment of shock, Martha rushed over to him and enveloped her son in a hug. "Clark, that's wonderful!"

"There's more," he said as they resumed their original positions. "I think I wanna tell her."

"Tell her what?" asked Jonathan, even though he already knew the answer by the tone with which Clark had announced it.

"My secret."

The Kent parents exchanged a glance. Before they could say anything, Clark continued: "I know what you're thinking. But I finally realized why it didn't work out with Lana."

Jonathan took a deep breath before replying: "And what makes you think this time will be any different?"

"It's different with Chloe," he insisted. "All the meteors have ever done to Lana are make her life harder. She lost her parents in the meteor shower, not to mention she's had half of Belle-Reve after her more than once. And before he tried to kill me, she was the first person to jump to Van McNulty's defense when he started assassinating people who had been infected by the meteors. I don't think she'd look at me the same if she realized that I'm the reason her parents are dead and that all those people tried to kill her."

"Clark, you can't—"

Clark raised his hands. "Let me finish," he said, and his father motioned for him to continue. "But it's not like that with Chloe. She's fascinated by the meteors. She created the Wall of Weird, and she only digs into these people's lives because she's trying to help. And even when some of them did try and kill her, she didn't take it personally. Chloe wouldn't be freaked out the way Lana would if she knew my secret. She'd probably think it's cool."

Jonathan looked at him sternly. "And don't you think that if you tell her this, you'll be giving her _exactly_ what Lionel's been looking for?"

"She won't tell him," Clark said as though nothing could make him believe otherwise. "Not when she knows what I can do to protect her. She won't have any reason to keep digging into my past either if she already knows. That means she's not gonna go off and make any deals like this again."

Before Jonathan could say anything else, Martha spoke: "Well, it's your decision to make, Clark. Just realize that once you tell her, there's no going back. You'd be putting her at risk."

"She's already in danger because I wasn't completely honest with her," he argued. "This is the only way to stop it."

Martha opened her mouth to say something when someone knocked on the door. Clark stood up and answered it.

"Chloe!" he greeted, truly happy to see her.

"Hey Clark," she replied as he opened the door and ushered her inside. "Hi Mr. and Mrs. Kent."

Martha was the only one out of the pair to respond. "Hello, Chloe," she said as though she were greeting her own daughter. And if Clark was really serious about letting her in on his secret, that may very well be true someday.

Growing uneasy at the intensity of Mr. Kent's stare, Chloe turned back to Clark. "Why don't we go out to your barn?" she suggested; then, not wanting to admit the fact that she was extremely uncomfortable here, added: "We can watch the sunset there."

"Sure," he agreed, secretly wanting to escape the awkward tension as well.

"Be back in time for dinner!" his mother called out just before the door shut behind them. Speaking of which, she was probably going to have to set an extra place at the table tonight.

She turned to her husband, who sat glaring at the space where the two teenagers had just been. "Is everything alright, honey?"

"I just hope Clark knows what he's doing."

"We've raised Clark to make his own decisions, and his judgment is usually good in situations like this," she said, trying to reassure him. "Besides, he told Pete last year, and that's worked out for the best."

"He doesn't want to have a romantic relationship with _Pete_," Jonathan pointed out as though that made a difference. "He's never gotten this close to anybody before."

"Except Kyla," she reminded him. "She knew his secret and she praised him as a hero of her people."

"And we all know how well _that_ turned out," he snapped, the sudden venom in his tone taking Martha by surprise.

"Are you worried he'll get too close and lose her?"

He sighed and looked up at her, telling her everything with his eyes.

Taking a seat, she scooted up close to Jonathan, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We just have to hope it doesn't come to that," she said. "We both know how devoted Clark is to protecting the people he loves. And with powers like his, it says a lot about the son we've raised if that's what he chooses to use them for. We should be proud that he's made this decision all on his own."

Jonathan sighed again, only this time he smiled. "I know," he said. "And I trust Clark. It's just that sometimes I worry a bit too much for my own good. One of the many things I love about you is that you're always there to reassure me that what our son is doing is the right thing."

"And I love that you're always looking out for him," she replied. "He's becoming a man now. He needs to make his own decisions. And we just have to trust that they're the right ones, even though they might not always be. We can't keep him here forever. He's meant for bigger and better things, no matter how much any of us tries to deny it. We have to trust him."

They stood and Jonathan wrapped his arms around his wife in a hug, drawing her close. "I know, sweetheart," he whispered close to her ear. "I know."

* * *

Clark smiled as he heard what his parents said after he left. Being the ultimate eavesdropper did have its advantages.

"What'cha smilin' about?" Chloe asked with an easy informality that confirmed just how close they were to each other.

"Just thinking about how lucky I am to have my parents," he said. It wasn't exactly a lie. He just didn't mention what had suddenly made him so sentimental. But if all went according to plan, he wouldn't have to leave anything out anymore.

"You really did hit the parental jackpot," she agreed, moving closer to him as they continued to walk side by side. "I can't imagine how wonderful it must be having both of them in your life." She frowned.

It didn't take any sort of superhuman empathy for Clark to realize what was troubling her. "Chloe, your mother didn't abandon you," he reassured her. "She must have had her reasons for leaving."

She stopped walking, and Clark could see tears welling in her eyes. "Yeah, there are plenty of good reasons why a parent suddenly decides to drop off the face of the planet. I've been looking for her since I figured out how to read a phonebook, Clark. I can't find her." She looked down.

"Hey," he said softly, raising her chin with his finger. "You will. You just have to keep looking."

She sniffled. "Thanks Clark," she whispered.

They resumed walking. "So where were we earlier?" she asked, praying that for once his answer wouldn't be evasive and mysterious.

It wasn't. "You were telling me how much you still love me."

"Yeah," she said, smiling. "And I was still waiting for you to tell me how _you _feel."

Waiting for him to answer wasn't as terrifying as she thought it would be. Not when the way he smiled and the look of passion in his eyes gave her the answer she wanted so badly it physically hurt.

"I took you to the Spring Formal for a reason," he said while reaching over to hold her hand, which she offered without hesitation. "I just lost sight of it when you pulled the 'friends' card. Now I'm not blind anymore."

They were just arriving at the barn. It was hard to believe that just yesterday they'd had a massive blowout here that nearly cost them their friendship.

"Well that's good to hear," she replied. "Now you can see me in all my glory."

He raised an eyebrow.

Amazingly, Chloe didn't blush. "Okay, the gutter is _so_ not the place for the mind of the guy I fell in love with," she chided, shoving him. If only she knew that she couldn't budge him unless he chose to move. "Although…." Her eyes traveled up and down the length of his admittedly Olympian-quality body. "You never know; someday I might actually mean it that way."

Kryptonite wasn't Clark's only weakness. It seemed that suggestive comments, especially ones from people he didn't expect to utter them, brought on levels of extreme discomfort as well. But then again, embarrassment was the Achilles' heel of any teenager, no matter what their species. The same blood that gave him such incredible abilities was also what betrayed his vulnerability to sexual innuendo as it flooded his cheeks.

"Let's not go there," he said awkwardly. "We haven't even decided if we're gonna be more than just friends yet."

"I'd like to be," she responded as she stepped up close to him. "If you'll let me."

"I'd like that too," Clark admitted, staring passionately into her eyes as he gripped her shoulders. "There's just something you need to know about me first."

"Oh please don't tell me you're gay!" Chloe howled, and Clark wasn't sure if she was joking or serious.

He raised his eyebrows. "If I was, would I be interested in dating you?"

She chuckled. "I guess not. Okay then, what is it?"

"Chloe, what would you say if I told you some of your research into me wasn't completely without merit?"

"What do you mean?"

"What would you say if I told you that I'm not exactly from around here, that you can't find any record of my being born because where I come from I'm not even sure if they kept those sorts of records?"

"I would say that you'd better stop dealing in hypotheticals and level with me."

He smiled. "Then I have something to show you too."


	4. Confessions of a Teenage Alien

"Clark, why are you going through your dad's toolbox?"

"There's something in here I wanna show you."

"Couldn't you just _tell _me instead?"

"And ruin the mystique?" Clark grinned impishly. "Besides, you wouldn't believe me unless I showed it to you."

"I dunno, Clark. I'm pretty open-minded."

"Let's see if you remember that in about a minute," he muttered. Finding what he was looking for, he hid it in his palm and walked back over to Chloe so that he was standing right in front of her.

"What's in your hand?"

For once in their entire relationship, he obliged her. When he opened his hand, she saw a small octagonal disk with strange hieroglyphics resting in his palm.

"Those are the same symbols from the caves," she observed. "But since when did the Kawatchee make paperweights?"

"They're not Kawatchee," Clark corrected. "They're not even from this planet."

Before Chloe had a chance to respond, he continued: "Do you remember the legend of Niman?"

"The one about the guy who comes down in a rain of fire, has the strength of ten men and shoots fire from his eyes?"

"Yeah, that one. Do you ever wonder who it's referring to?"

"Constantly. Why?"

Instead of answering, he strode over to where a bale of hay sat on the floor of the barn. Seemingly without effort, he tossed it up to the rafters.

Chloe wasn't sure what to make of the display. "Okay, so you've apparently been drinking your milk, but what—"

Her next words caught in her throat as the bale of hay spontaneously combusted in mid-air. Before it landed, Clark caught it. She didn't even see him move; it was like he'd teleported. If she'd been confused before, her bewilderment went into overdrive when he stopped the fire by snuffing it out with his bare hand.

It was several moments before she could even speak. "Y-you're…."

"Yes," Clark finished for her. "I'm Niman."

"But you're not Kawatchee."

"Neither is the language on the cave walls."

Her eyes grew wide, not with terror, but with the awe of witnessing a discovery so immense that it had the ability to render one speechless. "So when the legend talked about the rain of fire, it really meant…."

"The meteor shower."

"But… how…?"

"Chloe, do you know why my birth certificate and my adoption papers are forged? Do you know why you can't find any information about me from before the meteor shower?"

She gasped. "But that would mean you're an…."

"Alien," he finished. He held up the disk. "This is the key that opened my spaceship. It also allows me to interact with the caves."

Chloe threw up her hands. "Whoa, whoa, back up! Did you just say _spaceship_?! Why didn't you just show me _that_?!"

He sighed. "Do you remember the day of Lex's wedding? When we had that big fight?"

"Painfully," she answered, really wishing he hadn't brought that up right now.

"I was on my way to destroy the ship."

"_What?!_"

He started to pace. "The ship contained an AI programmed to act as the will of my biological father. His name is Jor-El, by the way."

"And what was your name on wherever you come from?"

"Kal-El," he answered. "The planet I come from is called Krypton."

"As in element number thirty-six on the Periodic Table?"

"As in a planet from a distant solar system. Apparently the sunsets there lasted for hours."

"Okay, so if the place had such a spankin' view, why'd they send you _here_? And why with all those meteors?"

He frowned. "The planet was destroyed, Chloe. I'm the last of my kind."

The journalistic intrigue that had danced in her eyes mere moments ago was replaced by a look of heartfelt compassion. "I'm so sorry, Clark," she whispered.

"It's fine," he said, brushing it off and heading for the stairs that led to his loft. Chloe followed.

"So what'd the ship say that made you wanna destroy it?"

"Jor-El told me to leave Smallville," he said, taking a seat on the couch. Chloe did likewise. "He burned this symbol," he pointed to one of the markings on the octagonal disk, the one that looked like the number eight inside an inverted pentagon, "into my chest."

"That must've hurt."

He smirked. "You have no idea. Anyway, he told me that if I didn't leave Smallville by noon the next day, everyone I loved would pay the price."

"And I'm guessing you didn't like that ultimatum."

He shook his head. "Pete helped me to steal a copy of the key that Lionel made out of Kryptonite—that's what the green meteor rocks are—to destroy the ship."

"Okay, slow down!" Chloe demanded, rocketing to her feet. "First, why was Pete helping you?"

"He knows my secret," answered Clark. "I told him a year ago."

Chloe looked hurt. "Why him and not me?"

"He kinda found my ship after it flew out of the storm cellar when the tornadoes hit," Clark admitted sheepishly. "It was either tell him or lose him as a friend. And even when I told him, I almost did."

"But everything apparently worked out great between the two of you, right?"

Clark nodded.

"So now it's time for you to answer part two of my question," she continued. "Why would a key made out of… what'd you call it?"

"Kryptonite."

"…Kryptonite, be enough to destroy the ship?"

"Because it's the only thing that can kill me," Clark said.

"Wait, what?"

"Chloe, you saw me put out that fire with my bare hands. I'm more than just thick-skinned; I'm bulletproof."

Remembering all the times that Clark had come into contact with small-arms fire, Chloe was wiling to bet that statement was true. "But Kryptonite weakens you?"

"And it negates all my powers. It's like my blood starts boiling and I lose the ability to even stand when I'm near it. If I'm exposed to it long enough, I'll die."

"Hence the reason why you couldn't get within ten feet of Lana Lang without tripping over yourself for as long as she wore that necklace," Chloe observed.

"Exactly," said Clark. "It's also the reason I got sick that one time. Irradiated spores."

"Gross," she commented. "Your mom came down with the same thing. What cured you?"

"The ship," he answered. When she raised an eyebrow, he explained: "Whenever the ship opened, it emitted some sort of pulse that apparently negated the effects of any Kryptonite in the area. It also helped my mother become pregnant."

Chloe was beyond stunned. "How?"

"The pulse acted as some sort of miracle-healer. It corrected whatever condition she had and made her able to bear children."

"So what happened when you put in the Kryptonite key?" she asked with trepidation.

Clark frowned. "The opposite," he said in a low, regretful tone. "It made her lose the baby."

And for the hundredth time in the last ten minutes, she was floored. "Clark, I'm so sorry that happened," she whispered, sitting down next to him and placing a hand on his shoulder.

"It wasn't your fault," he said, closing his eyes. When he opened them again, he continued: "It was the reason I left. I'd never seen my dad so afraid of me. I didn't feel like I belonged here. So I ran away."

"Wow," she whispered, suddenly understanding what had driven him to abandon Smallville. "But if you were really _that _depressed, why'd you act like such a jerk when I found you in Metropolis a month later?"

"I actually have your class ring to blame for that," he said, his tone the very definition of regret.

"Why?"

"You remember how the school cheaped out and made the gems out of red meteor rock?"

"Definitely. I wrote an exposé on it, remember?"

"Well, think about it. If green Kryptonite affects me physically…."

"…then the red Kryptonite has to do with your emotions," she finished for him.

He nodded. "It removes my inhibitions and makes me say and do things I wouldn't even think of otherwise."

"Like a drug?"

"Well I don't like to think of what I did in Metropolis as getting high, but yeah, basically."

"Huh," she said. "So what else can you do?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, so far you're super-strong, you can shoot fire from your eyes, you're physically invulnerable, and you apparently teleport?"

"Actually I just move faster than you can see me," he corrected.

"I wondered how you always beat Pete and me to school even though you regularly missed the bus," she mused. "Anything else?"

"I have heightened senses too. Just the other day I discovered I have the ability to hear someone whispering on the other side of the planet."

Her eyes grew wide and she gasped. "That's how you knew about me and Lionel!"

Clark nodded. "Apparently it was my other senses trying to compensate for my loss of sight," he said. "I couldn't quite control it at that point."

"Well you mastered it pretty quickly," she noted. "What else ya got?"

"One more," he answered, taking a deep breath. "I can see through solid objects."

Chloe's eyes immediately bugged out and she scurried back to the other side of the couch, self-consciously crossing her arms over her chest.

He rolled his eyes. "I don't use it to do _that_," he said, and Chloe relaxed. "I call it X-Ray vision because most of the time that's literally what it is. Everything goes photonegative and I can see people's skeletons."

"That's how you ID'ed Tina Greer," she realized.

"Yeah," he said.

She was quiet for the next several minutes. Clark watched her the whole time. He didn't mean to stare, but he was very anxious about her reaction now that he'd finally told her the truth. "Well?" he asked finally.

"Well what?"

"Do you see me any differently now?"

She laughed. He was so self-conscious it was hilarious to look at. "Of course I do, silly," she answered, elbowing him. For the first time, she realized the true reason why he flinched: he didn't want to hurt her.

He was apparently more than willing to heap pain and suffering upon himself, though, because she saw him frown. "I see."

Chloe rolled her eyes. "Do you see me running for the hills?" she asked. "It's not like you're the first person with extraordinary abilities that I've come across. Just the first one who didn't get them from the meteor rocks."

In that moment she saw the weight of the world disappear from Clark's shoulders. He looked up at her, unable to believe that she could be so accepting. "You really mean that?"

She nodded. "I do. You're still the same Clark Kent I fell in love with, just with added benefits. You're like my own personal superhero."

Clark, having heard those words from her before, grinned. "You're really okay with this?" he asked one more time.

"_Yes_," she answered, slightly annoyed. "I'll prove it to you," she said before making the distance between their faces disappear.

This was new territory for both of them. They'd kissed before, but never with Chloe half-lying on top of him. It was… stimulating, to say the least. Not that Clark would even acknowledge that thought short of being on red Kryptonite, which he definitely wasn't. Still, it wasn't like he was putting up much of a struggle.

He felt a sudden pressure on his lips, not realizing until a few seconds later that it was actually Chloe's tongue seeking access to his mouth. He granted it, parting his lips and letting her inside. She wasted no time exploring. He wondered why his tongue was suddenly overwhelmed with pleasure until he realized that the blonde not-quite-temptress was stroking its underside with hers. It was all too much for him to process—which said a lot considering his superior brain power—and he moaned in response to her expert ministrations.

Clark suddenly became aware of a growing itch in his eyes. Somewhere beneath his hormone-induced fugue, he remembered what would happen next. He broke the kiss, shoving Chloe to the other side of the couch.

"Clark, what the _hell_?!" she screeched.

"Chloe, get down!"

She barely had time to duck before the wall behind her caught fire. Clark went into superspeed and ran by the flames, trusting that the wind he generated would be enough to extinguish them. He was back on the couch before Chloe could even raise her head.

"Chloe, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, but what the hell was _that?!_"

Clark chuckled sheepishly. "I… uh… never told you what triggers my heat vision, did I?"

She blinked. "Sexual arousal? You're kidding me. And here I thought it'd be anger."

"That does it too," he admitted. "But mostly it's just the thinking about sex part."

"Okay that is _so _not going to bode well for future make-out sessions," Chloe said.

"It only happens when I lose control of myself," he explained. "I can suppress it if I have time to warm up first." She giggled at the pun. "If you don't wanna get fried, we're gonna have to take this physical stuff slow."

"And here I thought _I'd_ be the one putting a speed limit on the romantic activities. At least now I know why you never dated much. Aside from the Lana obsession, that is."

Clark frowned. "Can we please not talk about that?"

"Say, you didn't ever tell _her_ your secret, did you?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid of how she might react."

"Why? I took it well, as you can see."

"Because you're apparently a xenophile," he quipped. Chloe resisted the urge to punch him, knowing that it would be like trying to hit steel.

"So then why?"

"Her parents were killed by one of the meteors," he answered. "And she's had so many meteor mutants try and kill her that I'm starting to think she got infected too and her power is attracting psychos. Everything that's happened in Smallville is related to me. If I hadn't come, neither would the meteor shower, and this town would be a hell of a lot more normal."

"Now _that _would be a tragedy," she remarked. "Still, why blame yourself? It's not like your home planet blew up because of you. Correlation isn't causation, Clark. Just because you happened to come with those meteors doesn't mean you're responsible for the effects."

"Lana wouldn't see it that way," said Clark. "That's why I can't tell her."

"She does have a tendency to jump to even worse conclusions than I do," Chloe mused. "But you still owe her a chance."

"Even though me telling her might ruin yours?"

Chloe didn't even flinch. "Yes, Clark. I'm not gonna force you to tell her or anything—that's your choice. Just know that if you don't, you two will never be more than friends."

"I'm not sure that's such a bad thing anymore," he replied, looking at her. She smiled.

"Well you can rest assured that I'm not going to tell anybody who doesn't already know," Chloe promised. "It's not my place."

"Whatever happened to 'the people have a right to the truth?'"

"Not when that truth involves one of my best friends. There's no such thing as impartial journalism."

"Well then I'm glad we've decided to be even more than friends," said Clark. "Even more security that way."

"Yeah, you don't have to worry about pillow talk if you're the only one I'm having it with."

"That better be true."

"Ooh, is Clark getting jealous?" she teased.

"Is there anything I should be jealous of?"

She shook her head.

He grinned. "Thanks, Chloe."

"For what?"

"For accepting me in spite of what I am."

Chloe actually laughed out loud. "In _spite_ of it? Hell, now I love you even _more_! You were honest with me, Clark. That took guts."

"It was worth the risk," he said, beaming.

She glanced at the clock. "Don't you guys usually have dinner around this time?"

Clark looked at his watch. "Actually we're already late," he said, standing up and extending his hand. "C'mon, I'll get us there in less than a second."

"You'd better not give me whiplash, Kent."

"I'll try my best," he said, grinning.

And the next thing she knew, she was having dinner with the Kents.

* * *

"So you never told me what the symbols mean," Chloe said as she sat down beside Clark. "I assume that was you who burned that into your barn last year, correct?"

Clark nodded, chewing on a large piece of his chicken. Swallowing, he replied: "That was the symbol for Hope."

"Prophetic," she said. "So how'd you learn to read them?"

"When I put the key into the cave wall, it downloaded me with all the knowledge of my planet's language," answered Clark. "I literally became fluent overnight."

"Wow," Chloe breathed. "So you're saying I could learn to read them?"

"Not like that," he replied, shaking his head. "The last person to try it was Dr. Walden, and he wound up in Belle-Reve in a catatonic state."

"So he suffered information overload?"

He nodded. "Apparently it was too much for any brain except mine to handle."

"So what happened that made him wind up like an overcooked chicken fritter?"

"He regained consciousness the night before Lex's wedding, as well as gaining the ability to emit energy from his hand using the key. He almost killed me."

Chloe looked confused. "But I thought Kryptonite was the only thing that could do that."

"There are other things that can hurt Clark," said Martha. "Anything Kryptonian, for instance. He may be bulletproof, but he's not immortal."

"Still, having a kid with a dermis that's harder than diamonds must do a lot to ease your worrying," she volunteered.

"Actually it's just as bad," said Jonathan. "We may not have to worry about Clark getting hurt, but powers like his come with an enormous responsibility. If he's not careful, he could severely injure or even kill someone when he uses them."

"Hence why you're not on the football team," noted Chloe, understanding. "Though I must say I'm not entirely ungrateful for your lack of other extracurriculars. The lunch menu isn't gonna type itself," she teased.

Clark just smiled.

"So who told you that you're from Krypton?" she asked him. "How do you know they're not just making stuff up?"

"Because the person who told me is Dr. Virgil Swann."

"The billionaire supergenius? No way!"

"Way," he replied, grinning. "One of his receiving stations picked up a transmission on the day of the meteor shower. It took him years to decrypt it, but he knows how to read Kryptonian. He's the one who told me my real name and where I come from. He also…." He looked away.

"Also what?"

"He's also the one who showed me where Krypton used to be, before it was destroyed. He tracked the signal all the way to a distant solar system, but all he found was empty space. He told me I'm the last of my kind."

"But there's gotta be others like you," she insisted.

Clark smiled bitterly. "That's what I said too. He told me there was only one message. I'm all that's left of my planet."

There was silence for a few minutes before Chloe decided to change the subject to Clark's childhood. "So I'll bet having a super-powered kid around the farm must have been a handful."

Martha smiled. "There were times when we wondered just what exactly we'd signed on for. The majority of Clark's abilities were present when we found him, like his strength, his speed and his durability, all of which grew in power as he developed. The others just sort of emerged over the last two and a half years. We only discovered his super-hearing yesterday."

"Which worked out great for _me_," Chloe deadpanned. She looked at Clark. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Lionel sooner. I turned to him in a moment of weakness, and the only reason I'm still in is because I can't seem to get out."

"It's fine," he said, reaching over and rubbing her arm to show his support. She closed her eyes and tried to convince herself that she and Clark were the only two people in the world at that moment.

The illusion was shattered when Jonathan said: "I hope you're not planning on telling any of this to Lionel, Chloe."

She smirked. "After the way he threatened me and my dad? He'll be lucky if he gets a 'screw you' out of me. I'd sooner live in a cardboard box and eat Spam for the rest of my life than tell him what I know. Your secret's safe with me."

"And you won't tell anyone else?"

Chloe shook her head. "I promise."

"Well that's good to hear," said Martha. "Welcome to the family, Chloe."

She smiled.

"I'm gonna swing by Lex's tomorrow," said Clark. "See if he can do anything to help against his father."

"Just be careful, Clark," his mother cautioned. "We don't know much control Lionel has over him after what happened at Belle-Reve. It could be dangerous."

"It's worth a shot," he said. "And I will be careful."

Chloe smiled at him. "Thanks, Clark."

"Anytime."

The rest of the dinner conversation was devoted to tales of Clark's early childhood, from lifting a five hundred pound bed when he was only three years old to stripping off all his clothes and climbing inside the oven trying to imitate the turkey they'd just had the night before. Fortunately Clark's invulnerability had developed to the point where all he did was sweat in response to the heat, which had climbed to over four hundred degrees by the time the Kents found him. Martha recounted the tale with a healthy dose of laughter, although Chloe did detect signs of worrying in her voice. But then again, worrying was what mothers did.

When the last of their meal was done, Clark did the dishes in under a second, which drew a round of applause from Chloe and his parents.

"It may seem like a time-saver to you, but Einstein's Theory of Relativity is true to the point where doing them at superspeed feels like it takes just as long as doing them the normal way," he mock-complained. "I think I at least deserve a 'thank you.'"

Chloe giggled at his mock display of not feeling appreciated, giving him a kiss on the lips as his reward. "Thank you, Clark," she said before glancing at her watch. "I'd better get home."

"Want me to run you there?" Clark offered, but Chloe shook her head.

"Even though I'm sure you could carry both me and my car all the way to my house without breaking a sweat, you nearly gave me serious whiplash just carrying me here from your barn," she explained. "Besides, a nice drive will give me the chance to think over some things I need to deal with by myself."

"Alright then," he said, giving her a kiss goodbye. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye. Thanks Mr. and Mrs. Kent!" she called before disappearing out the back door.

Clark stood there for a moment, smiling like he had all evening. Things would be so much easier with Chloe now that she knew the truth. He was sure of it.

He turned around to see his parents smiling at him. "We are so proud of you, Clark," his mother said. "That was very brave of you to take such a risk. Your father and I are glad that everything worked out so well."

"Just be careful from now on, son," said Jonathan. "Now that Chloe knows your secret, someone might try to get it out of her. Now if you trust her not to tell anyone then so do your mother and I, but she's in great danger of someone trying to force it from her against her will."

Clark's eyes narrowed. "That's not going to happen. I'll make sure of it."

"You can't watch over her twenty-four hours a day, Clark," Martha pointed out. "You barely rescued Pete from danger just yesterday. You're putting them at risk."

"So you're saying I shouldn't have told them?"

Jonathan shook his head. "No Clark, what we're saying is that you need to be careful. Be on the look out for anything. We never know what Lionel might try."

"I will," promised Clark, giving each of his parents a hug.

"Now go to bed, son," ordered Jonathan "You've got school tomorrow."

"Sure thing, dad," he said, climbing the stairs to his room. "Good night."

"Good night," they called out in unison.

After Clark left, Jonathan turned to his wife. "Do you think he made the right decision?" he asked.

"Only time will tell. But he feels good about it. That's all that matters right now."

"I just don't want him putting his friends in danger," he explained. "Anyone who knows his secret is liable to be a target."

"Chloe was already a target," Martha pointed out. "Now she knows that she can turn to us for help. It's best that she knows. And now Clark can be himself around her. She could be the one for him."

"Like you said, sweetheart, only time will tell. Now let's go to bed. This farm's not gonna run itself."

"Alright," she agreed. "Just let Clark do the difficult stuff. Your heart isn't what it used to be."

"I refuse to be handicapped, Martha. I'm perfectly capable of running this farm the way I always have."

"Let's talk about it later, Jonathan. When Clark's not listening." Looking up, she whispered: "Go to bed, son."

Deciding that he would ponder his mother's seeming ability to know everything he did in the morning, Clark obeyed, returning his hearing to normal and closing his eyes.

And for the first time ever, Lana wasn't the girl of his dreams.


	5. Weight of the World

Clark entered the library of the mansion to find Lex sitting on his couch, gripping a colossus of pages in his hands.

"What're you reading?"

Lex paused in his reading and held up the cover for Clark to view. He saw the image of a statue viewed from below, bearing effortlessly on its shoulders the weight of a hollow metal globe. He recognized it from the multitude of photos Chloe had shown him of the Daily Planet. It was the same picture that decorated Max Taylor's office, as well as the staircase that led down to the archives in the basement. Emblazoned on the cover were two words. Clark read them aloud:

"_Atlas Shrugged_?"

Lex nodded. "Ayn Rand's masterpiece. It's a great book. You should check it out sometime."

Clark buried his hands in the pockets of his red jacket, which he had worn despite the unseasonably warm weather. Temperature just wasn't a big deal to him. "What's it about?"

"It's an epic tale about a man who said that he would stop the motor of the world," he answered, crossing one leg over the other and leaning further back into the couch. "It's about the value of human productivity; about how men who possess great power and ability shouldn't have to answer to those who don't. It tells the story of the end of the world; and the beginning of a new one."

"What caused it to happen?"

"The great men of the day—the businessmen, the producers, the saviors of the economic world—were leeched off of, tormented, and drained of their life solely because they had the power to give it. They were damned for their ability; cursed as a poison to the world when in fact they were its life blood. They were treated like a plague, even though _they_ were the ones keeping the world from dying of starvation. They had the ability to move mountains, but drain a man of blood and his strength goes with it."

He shifted his position so that both his feet were on the ground, then leaned forward and continued: "Eventually they'd had enough. When all they got for their hard work was punishment, when they were cursed as a boil on the back of humanity, when robbery became the proper function of the law and only the good men suffered, they dropped out of the race. They withdrew their minds, which the beggars and the parasites of the world had damned them for daring to use. They shrugged the weight of the world off their shoulders."

"Hence the title," observed Clark.

Lex inclined his head.

"But why? Why quit when they were the only ones keeping the motor running?"

"Their plan was to let the world destroy itself, then rebuild it from scratch afterwards."

"Did they succeed?"

"Yes."

Several moments passed as Clark shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Finally he voiced his thought: "But there must have been a better way. The world isn't all bad."

"Of course not. But take out all the good and what have you got left?"

Clark said nothing.

"There's a line from this book that I'll never forget," Lex continued while turning to the appropriate page. "'Every man builds his world in his own image,'" he read aloud. "'He has the power to choose, but no power to escape the necessity of choice.'"

He raised his head. "What will your world look like, Clark?"

"Well…." Clark looked around, idly flexing his hands before returning them to his pockets. "I guess it'd be a world of justice. A world where people do the right thing. A world where people won't need somebody to save them."

"People will always need saving," disagreed Lex, reclining back against the cushions. "Especially from themselves."

"You seem optimistic."

Lex chuckled soundlessly.

"Do I even wanna know what your world would look like?"

"I plan to create a world where people aren't expected to live up to their fathers' expectations," the billionaire answered. "Where we'll all be free to choose our own destinies."

"Sounds like my kind of world," said Clark, unable to suppress a grin. Then he pondered the way his friend had worded that and furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean, you 'plan to?'"

Lex smiled. "There are two kinds of people in this world, Clark." He held up a hand for emphasis, lowering all but his index and middle finger. "There are dreamers and then there are men of action. The first," he lowered his middle finger so that only his pointer remained, "imagine what it would be like to try and move a mountain; the second," he extended it again, "are the ones who actually go out there and move it." He lowered his arm.

"I'm guessing you're a man of action, then."

"You guess correctly."

There was a few moments' pause before Lex said: "So while I'm touched by your newfound appreciation for small talk, I doubt you came here just to discuss the wider philosophical applications of great American Literature."

He nodded. "Chloe's in trouble."

"What's the intrepid reporter gotten herself into this time?"

"She made a deal with your father."

"My father is the head of a multinational corporation," said Lex, setting his right arm on the back of the couch as though trying to make a move on some nonexistent girlfriend. At the same time, he rested his left ankle on his right thigh. "Thousands of companies and small businesses make deals with him every day."

"This is different," Clark said, being careful not to rip his jacket as his hands, still in the pockets, gestured slightly outwards. "He's blackmailing her."

"Another activity that figures regularly into my father's life and business. Of course in that case I can actually help. What sort of deal did she make with him?"

Clark hesitated, refusing to meet his gaze. "I'd rather not say."

"Clark, in order for me to help, I need to know everything."

He sighed, removing his hands from the jacket. "He offered her new computers for The Torch and a column at the Daily Planet."

"And my father doesn't believe in a one-sided deal," said Lex. "What's in it for him?"

"His condition was for her to tell him everything she knew about me, both from her research into my past and the things she'd learned as my friend. He basically wanted her to spy on me."

"I'm betting you weren't happy when you found that out."

"It's in the past now. Chloe needs your help getting out."

"What did he threaten her with?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Clark, I need to know the exact terms of my father's blackmail in order to ensure he can't hold them over anyone's head. I can't help Chloe unless you tell me."

"Well, besides threatening to remove her Daily Planet column, he also told her that her father would be fired from his job at the plant if she didn't comply."

"Gabe Sullivan is one of my best workers, Clark. My new position at LuthorCorp gives me undisputed control over the plant. It was my father's way of sweetening the deal. If he asks me to fire him, I'll say no."

"Thank you," said Clark.

"Now as for her column, I'm afraid my father has more control over the Daily Planet than I do. I can guarantee her a job at The Inquisitor if she wants."

"Thanks, but I think Chloe would rather lose her hands to carpal tunnel writing for The Torch the rest of her life than write a single word for a paper that she says isn't worth lining a bird cage with."

Lex chuckled. "I'll talk with my father," he promised. "Just keep Chloe and yourself out of trouble. He's not someone to mess with."

"Thanks, Lex." He turned to leave.

"Anytime."

Before he walked out the door, he turned around. "Say, Lex, do you think I could borrow that book? I promise I'll return it."

"You can keep it," Lex replied, tossing it to him. He caught it easily. "I've read it cover to cover five times already. I practically have it memorized."

Clark grinned. His friend was always so gratuitously generous. Most people would point to Lex's desperate desire to be accepted as the reason for that, but Clark liked to believe that he was only doing what any friend would given his resources.

"See ya," he said before walking out the door.

* * *

_"Mr. Rearden," said Fransisco, his voice solemnly calm. "If you saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the greater his effort the heavier the world bore down on his shoulders—what would you tell him to do?_

_"I… don't know. What… _could_ he do? What would you tell him?"_

_"To shrug."_

Clark heard footsteps coming up the stairs to his loft and looked up from his book. He smiled. It was Chloe.

"Hey!" she greeted. "What English assignment are you failing this time?"

He laughed. "Actually this is a book Lex gave me." He held up the cover for her to see.

"Ah, _Atlas Shrugged_," she said with a slight undertone of disgust. "The longest argument for extreme capitalism the world has ever known."

"You've read it?"

"Yes, and I severely wish I hadn't."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

She sat down next to him on the couch. "Because the message is complete crap, Clark. Rand basically uses the characters to outline her philosophy, which is all about arguing that CEOs are the ones who keep industry afloat instead of the workers. It's a philosophy for rich people and pretty much nobody else."

"Which explains why Lex likes it so much," he realized. "But I don't know. I can see the appeal of some of it."

"Like what?"

"I wasn't always so used to my powers. Sometimes I still wish they'd be gone so I could just be normal. Sometimes I just want to take all that responsibility and shrug it off."

"Yeah, but then who would rescue people when the police and firemen can't get there in time? I mean sure, your powers are a massive responsibility, but they're a gift as well. The kind of gift that's really only worth it if you share it with others."

"I realize that," he said. "But sometimes I don't want to share my powers with anybody. Sometimes I just want them to go away."

"I thought your parents raised you better than that," she retorted. "Maybe you didn't ask for these powers. Maybe you don't want them. But, well, I never asked to be in love with you. And believe me, there have been times I wish I wasn't."

"Chloe…"

"Let me finish," she said, raising a finger. "My point is, we don't get to choose our circumstances. But we do get to choose how to react to them. And the last thing I want is to see you start thinking as selfishly as Lex when it comes to your powers."

"I know," he said. "And I don't feel like that all the time. It's just hard carrying a secret all the time."

She smiled sympathetically and rubbed his shoulder. "Well I'm here to help you carry it, if you want."

"Thanks, but you knowing actually makes this harder," he said. "I'm putting you at risk by letting you in on this. I'm making you a target for anyone who wants to know my secret."

"Uh, in case you've forgotten, I was already a target of Lionel's," Chloe retorted. "You did the right thing by telling me."

"It still doesn't mean I should be burdening you with all this."

She studied him for several moments, trying to figure out what it was that he refused to say. "Clark, what are you thinking about right now?"

He started rubbing his hands together. "I was just thinking about how Pete reacted when I first told him. He didn't take it as well as you. In fact I almost lost him as a friend because he was mad at the fact that I'd lied to him all those years."

"What made him get over it?"

"The fact that I saved his life from Dr. Hamilton," answered Clark. When Chloe motioned for him to continue, he said: "Hamilton had strapped him to a chair and was threatening to inject him with enough Kryptonite to give him the same symptoms as Earl Jenkins. I busted in and saved him at the last minute."

He looked down. "Later on Pete told me the reason he forgave me was because the whole thing made him realize just how much of a risk it was to know my secret, and that he understood why I felt like I had to protect him all those years by not letting him know."

"I also told you I'd do it all again."

They looked up.

Chloe grinned sheepishly. "Uh, did I forget to tell you Pete was coming over too?"

"It's okay," said Clark. "Come on over here, Pete. The couch always has room for one more."

Pete chuckled and walked over to the chair at Clark's desk instead. "That's okay; I'll just let you two lovebirds snuggle."

Clark turned redder than Mississippi on a political map. "So I take it you know?" he asked once his cheeks stopped burning.

He nodded, grinning slyly. "Your mom filled me in. I mean, you told me Chloe knew your secret, but you didn't tell me she took it _this_ well!"

In an effort to get Clark to imitate a tomato once more, Chloe leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Pete whooped in celebration, then clapped at the display.

"Oh hush," Clark chided, tossing a baseball at his best friend's head. Pete ducked, grateful that he hadn't used his powers to throw it.

He shrugged. "Hey, you can't blame me for getting excited at the fact that our club has a new member."

Chloe liked the sound of an exclusive 'club' for people who knew Clark's secret. "Ooh, do we get cool jackets?"

"You want mine?" Clark offered, and she shook her head.

"No, thanks. How can you even stand to _wear_ that when it's so hot out?"

"The invulnerable skin means he doesn't get affected by temperature much," supplied Pete. "He could go skinny-dipping in the Arctic."

They all laughed.

"So how did you feel about it when you found out, Pete?" Chloe asked.

"Well, like Clark said, I was a little ticked off that he lied to me all those years. But I got over that. I think more than anything I was scared."

"Why?"

"Because suddenly I was the man who knew too much. I was afraid there were gonna be other people like Hamilton who would try and force his secret out of me."

"But you know Clark would never let that happen."

"I can't be there all the time," Clark countered. "With each person I tell, I'm putting more and more people at risk. No matter how hard I try, I can't keep everybody safe."

"You don't have to," she said, stroking his shoulder. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"What about Lionel?" Pete challenged, and Chloe looked down.

"I went to talk to Lex," said Clark. "He said he'd take care of it."

"You sure about that?"

He nodded. "I know you don't trust him, Pete, but I do. He's not his father."

"I wish I could believe that."

Silence reigned over the loft for several minutes. Finally Chloe spoke up. "So enough serious talk. What do you guys wanna do now?"

"Let's go to The Talon," Clark suggested. "I think I could go for some coffee right now."

Chloe couldn't help scowling. "And because you want to talk to Lana, right?"

"She's still my friend," he said. "And besides, even if I can't be totally honest with her, she deserves to know about you and me. I think it'd be better if we told her together."

She shrugged, seeing the logic in that. "Okay, but we're taking my car. I think I'm gonna have to start wearing a neck brace for whenever you speed me anywhere."

Clark nodded. "You coming, Pete?"

"Sure." He got up, and the three of them headed down the stairs.

It was just like old times, thought Clark. No secrets, no lies. Just Clark, Chloe and Pete. Three friends.

But at the same time so much more.

* * *

The frosted glass doors hissed open and Lex entered his father's office to find him sitting at his desk like it was a throne. Rather than kneel, the younger billionaire strode confidently over to Lionel and smirked in greeting.

"Feeling like royalty, Dad?"

It was his hair, thought Lex, that made his father appear so untouchable. It gave the very correct impression that Lionel Luthor was a man who did what he wanted, the rest of the world be damned. He was, unlike the kings of old, a man who had gotten to his position on his own effort. That he had scaled a mountain of his enemies' corpses to rise to such heights was worth noting, and always at the back of anyone's mind whenever they met him. His regal posture suggested majesty, but it was impossible to ignore the fact that he was a bastard heir who, while fit for the throne he had created, was nothing even remotely close to a figure of nobility.

Still, his father at least _looked_ like a king. Not that the kings of old were usually dressed in Armani suits, but still.

Lionel chuckled and his mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Only because I know you're not going to try and usurp me, right Lex?"

"I wouldn't dream of it," he answered, keeping the right corner of his lip curled upward. "Not after you've exiled me so many times. I know better than to challenge the king when he's not weak."

The elder Luthor crossed his hands over his lap, intertwining his fingers. "So if you're not here to stage a coup, Lex, what brings you to my office?"

"It's recently come to my attention that you have a problem with an employee at the Smallville plant," said Lex, walking over to his father's Scotch and pouring himself a glass. "Gabe Sullivan, to be exact. I'm curious to know why such a good man would be in your crosshairs." He took a sip. "Although I suppose I just answered my own question."

His father laughed out loud and leaned back in his chair. "I assume your mysterious source had something to do with this?"

"I'm no longer in contact with his daughter, if that's what you're accusing me of," said Lex. "In fact, I don't even remember speaking to her recently due to the seven week gap that you so graciously provided me with," he continued, pointing at his head.

"You were sick, Lex," Lionel defended. "I was only trying to help."

"I'm sure you were."

He scowled. "Well then who is it? Who's been giving you this information?"

"What's to say I don't have my own people monitoring your phone calls?" challenged Lex, extending the glass in his father's direction, then back at himself. "Between us we've planted enough bugs to start an insect farm."

"Because that would be too easy, even for you."

Lex smirked. Sometimes it seemed like his father knew him too well.

"What do you want, Lex?"

"I want you to leave Chloe Sullivan alone. She's a friend of Clark's. He wouldn't be happy if anything were to happen to her."

"And what will _you _do if something does?"

Internally, Lex paused. He hadn't expected his father to say that. "What are you implying?"

"I know that your interest in Miss Sullivan is more than just a favor for a friend," he accused. "You're drawn to her for the same reason I was—she's the only one who can match your strength of will. She's just like you when it comes to pursuing the truth, Lex. Her strength and tenacity are just as developed as yours. You've become attracted to her."

Even though his father was a bastard, Lex had to admit that he had a near unnatural talent for reading people. He knew, because ever since he was old enough to speak the man had taught him how to look at things like body language, how to read between the lines, and how to determine a person's true intentions by examining what they _didn't_ say. He smiled. Lionel really _did _know him too well.

"Do you remember the story of Atlas, son?"

Lex's smile did not waver, growing only wider as he recalled his conversation with Clark. "Bits and pieces," he replied.

"He was the one who led the Titans in the Great War against the Olympians," Lionel elaborated. "The sky was damaged from the fighting and Atlas was condemned by Zeus to hold up the heavens for eternity. If he tried to relieve himself of the burden, existence itself would perish. The universe, which he and his brethren had once ruled with absolute power, was now the source of his endless torment. All because he had to go and challenge the gods."

"And here I thought you'd make a comparison to Icarus, or maybe even Prometheus," said Lex, bored. "And if I remember correctly, the Great War started because the Titan Cronus was so afraid of his children rising up against him that he decided to _swallow them whole_."

As if to punctuate that last statement, he took a long swig of Scotch before slamming down the empty glass and leaning over his father's desk, a cold-hearted malice in his eyes. "I may be in your belly now, Dad," he said, "but if you do _anything_ to hurt my friends, I swear I'll tear my way out of there so fast your head will spin."

Lionel chuckled, impressed with his son's resolve. "All right," he said. "I'll leave your little love interest alone. It will be amusing to watch you try and get close to her only to have her see you for what you really are."

"Which is?"

He smirked. "My son."

Lex chuckled, then gave a small bow. "Your majesty," he said before departing.


End file.
